


A Mysterious Bedroom

by PhoenixIzzy, The Chronicler (AgentFrostbite)



Series: Terrors of The Night [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: "Telepathy" can be used to justify literally anything, Author has not yet had nightmares about these animatronics, Collab work!!, Female Tony Stark, Gen, Mild/moderate swearing, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Or a more functional family, Suspense, Tamryn Blackburn needs a hug, Tamryn has had a Tough Go Of It, Telepathy, Terror, Toni Stark Adopts Kids On Sight, Toni Stark has a heart, Toni Stark is a Good Mom, Tony Stark Has A Heart, but if she writes anymore about them she might, or twenty hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixIzzy/pseuds/PhoenixIzzy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentFrostbite/pseuds/The%20Chronicler
Summary: Neither Tamryn nor Toni Stark know how they got there, where "there" is, or why there's someone else in the room with them. What theydoknow is that there are things behind the doors, coming up the hallways, more than happy to make their visit to the nightmare world permanently short, and it'll take every ounce of wits and steady nerve they possess not to succumb to the terror long enough to survive.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Terrors of The Night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665319
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! PhoenixIzzy taking over the keyboard for minute! Hehehehehehe....anyways, most of you are probably wondering who this crazy child is. I’m a friend of Frostbite’s. And yes, I’m crazy.
> 
> Tamryn is a character I came up with (I’ve literally created hundreds of characters with backstories and everything over the years.......they’ll probably randomly pop up in more of Frostbite’s stories because I’m too lazy to actually post myself....I just draw all of them over and over again...).
> 
> Anyways, Tamryn is a fun character with a unique combination of powers that you’ll get to see eventually...probably. I hope you enjoy the spooky story too! It was so much fun to write, and I’m honestly amazed we managed to write it in one night. Welcome to the crazy :D
> 
> Agent Frotsbite: So here we are, my friends. Welcome to the (very late, but hush) frightening Friday the 13th extravaganza! What's more frightening than the nightmare animations, honestly?
> 
> (Full discretion, my dogs having perfectly normal allergy coughs are more frightening, but for the sake of argument-)
> 
> PhoenixIzzy and I pounded this out in pretty much one night, which is doggone amazing for us, because we do intricately and beautifully complex things that take for-freaking-ever to finish, assuming they _do_ get finished. It's creepy, it's tense, and it's perfect for Friday 13!
> 
> (Also full discretion, I started editing this to make it 3rd person, but we lost _so much_ of the personality when I started the transition that we said "Screw it" and decided to post it as is. All that hard work down the DRAIN, but hey, you do what you gotta do for the characters.)
> 
> If this gives you a spook, or you want to see the continuation of this series, please do say, because as of right now, Night 2 is kinda just...sitting around with a vague plot but no solid plot _line_ , and my muse is off idek where, frolicking in the field of "I want you to write me a thing, but I'm not giving you what you need to write it till you write it for me." 
> 
> ALSO! This fic has been written in 1st person (in case you couldn't tell from the bit above) and is told from multiple Points Of View (POV). Each POV will be well defined with a marker at the top that says (So-and-so's POV). Idk why this feels important to tell because it's all...pretty clear... And it doesn't matter as much for this one because the majority of it is written in one POV (which is gonna be WAYYYY different from how the other ones are to be written, I assume). If this style annoys you...don't read, I guess? (Just don't leave comments about the style being annoying; I can't do much about that because that's an aesthetic/storytelling tool and not something I can improve on.)
> 
> Okay, I'll get off my soap box, rant over, so go crazy. As always, enjoy the fic, thanks for reading, and have a great day!

(Tamryn’s POV)

I wake up slowly and open my eyes. My heart slams into my chest as the first thing I see is an honestly terrifying teddy bear. I’m apparently laying on a bed, and the bear is staring at me. I prop myself up on one elbow and look around the room I’m in. Confusion wars inside me.

How the heck did I end up here? I don’t recognize this place, and it’s giving me the creeps. Majorly. There’s a closet in front of me, and the doors are cracked open. There’s a door on either side of the room, both also open and revealing the dark abyss of blackness beyond.

Something shifts beside me and I nearly jump. I shift in the bed so I can see who’s next to me. It’s...It’s Toni Stark.  _ The _ Toni Stark. I inch a little bit away from her, knowing my gang has pissed her off at least once in the past. 

My attention is averted when I hear something in the hallway to my right. I eye the dark doorway nervously. As quietly as possible, I get out of the bed, my hand resting on a flashlight that was apparently on the nightstand. I take it and flick it on, aiming it through the doorway. It lights up the hallway beyond and I slowly creep towards it.

I cautiously peek my head out, and catch a bit of movement at the end of the hallway. I swiftly shut the door, my heart thudding as I hear heavy footsteps come running right up to the door. I keep a firm grip on the door, unsure of what is behind it or if it can open doors. I shine the flashlight at the other doorway across the way, praying there isn’t anything there. There isn’t, but I can still hear breathing on the other side of the door I’m holding. I flick the light towards the closet, illuminating the inside. I can’t see anything in it from this angle, but my instinct tells me there’s danger in there. I glance back towards the bed where Toni had been asleep. She’s awake now, and watching me.

The skin on the back of my neck crawls at the thought that she very well could’ve been watching me for a while now. I’ve been busy dealing with whatever the heck is behind this door.


	2. It's a Nightmare, All Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni Stark wakes up in a bedroom that she's never seen before but feels somehow familiar. There's someone else there, and she looks frightened about what's on the other side of the door. The scenario isn't new, but it'll take some time for Toni to figure it out. They just have to survive long enough for her to do it.

(Toni’s POV)

I wake suddenly, my whole body coming alive with the tension I only get when I’m in immediate danger. I look around the room and am automatically thrown off by the difference. I went to bed...I was at SHIELD. I crashed in a break room; I remember now. _That’s_ never happening again.

I sit up and look around at the odd layout. There’s a full size bed that I’m on, two doors to either side of the foot of the bed, and a closet just beyond. At the right door, holding it closed, is a teenager with short, blonde hair dyed purple and teal at the ends, that I swear I’ve seen before. Her face doesn't spark anything beyond vague recognition, and I get the sense that she and I aren’t on the same side, but I doubt that matters now.

I flash her an easy-going smirk that betrays none of my caution or hesitancy about the whole situation. “How’s it goin’?”

The girl frowns slightly, pressing her ear to the door for a moment, she slowly cracks the door open and then checks down the hallway with the flashlight. She darts over to the other door and checks down it before turning back towards me. “Fine. If you call waking up in a living nightmare good.”

I frown slightly. “So this isn’t just your bedroom?” I ask. I’m expecting a no, but she seems tense, and every ‘Danger!’ nerve I have is going off with all the volume and intensity as a fire alarm, so humor to diffuse the situation seems like a safe bet.

She shakes her head, “No.”

“O-kay. Any clue where we are?”

She shakes her head again and she peeks out into the hallway again. Her body goes rigid and she slams the door shut. Moments later, there’s a loud thud against the door. I get to my feet as fast as I can without going dizzy - and I’m glad she’s looking away because even my loose, flowy tank doesn't disguise the bump when I’m getting up. I cross the short distance between the bed and the door and lean in, listening.

She flinches away from me but holds the door closed. She flashes the other doorway quickly, checking to see if anything is there. There is, to my complete confusion and _utter horror_ , a large mechanical rabbit there. It’s about 7 feet tall, bending down to fit inside the doorway. It’s blue and metallic, though it’s designed to look like felt fabric, and the stomach area of the nightmare Chuck-E-Cheese reject has been cut or torn away to reveal the spinal column of the endoskeleton beneath. Other parts of the metal shell have been torn away in a half-rotted, half-shredded pattern. Its mouth is filled with sharp needle teeth, and its eyes are glowing a ghostly white.

Now, I’d like to say that I retained any semblance of composure, or that I took charge of the situation and fended it off. I’d like to say that I strategized and thought carefully but quickly about how to handle the Energizer Bunny from Literal Hell. Geez, I’d like to say I had _any_ kind of sense when dealing with this thing. 

What I actually do is yelp and throw my shoe at it. That does nothing, by the way.

The girl on the other hand, sends a bolt of electricity at the thing, her eyes wide with fear. The Hell Bunny jerks violently and seems to power down to some degree.

“H-hold the door.” The girl says, her voice shaking a bit. In a bit of shock myself, I do nothing beyond follow the order I’ve just been given and hold the door like some…

Oh, Lord, I’m the _extra_ person in a horror film.

She darts towards it and shoves it hard to get it out of the way of the door. She shuts the door right as the thing starts to move again. There’s a bloodcurdling electronic screech and the girl’s eyes widen with terror. That’s what kickstarts me.

I look around the room for something to hold this door closed with, since it opens outward and these things - being what looks like high-strength, or at the very least, meant for smashing things over - would probably knock down a dresser if we pulled it over. There’s a closet, but I can’t reach it without letting go of my door.

That also triggers a forgotten corner of memory, but this one I can focus on. I’ve seen this layout before, but not as real life. While I’m trying to focus on where I know this room and these things from, I hear a low-pitched electronic warbling coming from the bed.

“Kid, you still got that flashlight?” I make sure to keep my voice calm and reassuring, while still holding enough authority to keep her moving and listening.

She nods, and immediately shines it onto the bed, having heard the warbling noises as well. There are three little bears, similar in design to the bunny, sitting on the bed. They look to be in much better shape, but they still sport holes in their shells - the one in front in particular. As the light is on them, they fall off the bed and crawl back under it, their warbles turning to low-level roars until they all disappear under the mattress. I jump, but that, too, is familiar, and I’m too busy trying to figure out exactly _where_ I know them from for the panic to keep a good hold.

“What the hell are these things?” the girl asks.

“Workin’ on it,” I answer. “You remember how you got here?” I look at her. God, she looks young. 14, maybe 15. I think Harley is older than her.

“No. I just woke up here.” She answers. I nod, then shake my head.

“You gonna tell me where you were before here?”

She hesitates a moment her eyes flicking around the room, “I was home, in my own bed.”

“And I was at SHIELD. How could someone get us here, and why?” I ask, though I’m thinking aloud more than I am asking her.

“Teleportation?” She suggests. I tilt my head in an accepting nod.

“Likely. Makes sense, actually. That’s how they got past security and the nightmare animatronic-”

_Ding!_ The lightbulb goes off in the back of my mind. “It’s FNAF,” I breathe. “We’re stuck in Barton’s stupid video game.”

A tingle goes down my spine and the doorknob rattles under my fingers as they shake. This is not good, this is very not good, this is not good at all.

“FNAF? You mean like that horror game?” she asks.

“Exactly like that game,” I answer. Pieces start falling into place, which makes it easier - because now I know exactly what we’re up against - and harder - because this was the _one game_ no-one but Clint was ever brave or stupid enough to play. This was the one that sent _me_ running, and I’ve seen a lot of scary shit. Afghanistan, for a huge one. The other side of space, for two. But this was the one that wormed its way into my nightmares for a week, and I have to really focus to get my mind back under control.

“Okay,” I whisper, shaking myself back to some faux state of control. “Okay.” I look back at the kid. “How’re you holdin’ up?”

She shrugs, “Alright, I guess.”

Her body language tells a somewhat different story, though. Her shoulders are tense, and she looks ready to spring at any moment as she looks around the room. She looks like she expects more of these things to come out of nowhere. She flinches slightly, obviously hearing something from her side that I can’t hear.

“Okay,” I reply, accepting her lie because we’re in the middle of a legit nightmare and until she starts breaking down, I need to focus primarily on these things, which sucks to say or think, but c’est la vie.

I’m trying hard to remember anything about this game that would help me here. Like the other ones, the purple rabbit and chicken come down the left and right hallways, respectively. Freddy is split as the Freddles over the bed, so Foxy-

“Oh, sh- Put the light on the closet!” I shout.

She jerks the light from the bed to the closet. His snout, clawed to pieces and eyes radiating blood-red light, peers out at us from the closet door. At the light, he stops his advance, and I have a choice to make. Leave my post or leave him there. I press my ear to the door and use the one edge that Clint never figured out.

When I played the game, I was uncannily good at guessing when someone was there and when they left because I could hear/feel what I can only describe as a high-pitched electronic buzz/whine/I-don’t-know-what-it-was gut feeling. It got me through to the third night without a jumpscare. Of course, at that point I was so paranoid and the game got hard, and I ignored the Freddles and got a nasty scare. I use that same gut feeling now to determine exactly when - Chica, I think, ‘cause I remember that she’s a chicken - leaves the door, then I go over to handle Captain Redbeard in the closet.

Except I don’t really know how to “handle” him, and I do something incredibly stupid. I just sort of...plant my heel in his forehead and force him back, hoping that he doesn't get smart and snap my entire foot off at the ankle. By some miracle, he does go back in while hissing in an _exceptionally_ unnerving manner. Once he’s in there, I shut the doors - because that’s about the only defense I have. When the whine goes down, I open the doors slightly and see the animatronic gone, and a plush in his place.

The _other_ reason I never played this game is because I had _so_ many ideas about how to make it easier. For example, if one could just pick up the Foxy plushie and throw him back into the hallway, as long as you kept him out, the closet would no longer require maintenance. Now, If this was an actual game, that wouldn’t be viable. In fact…

“If this was a real-life scenario, there’s no way Foxy would go back to being a plush,” I think aloud. “So how…?”

And there it is. Once I stop panicking and thinking about the animatronics and the kid and the baby, I can feel it. There’s a slight undercurrent, a thin wire of almost-electricity, running across the back of my mind, crackling and prickling with that ever-familiar feel.

Telepathy.

And if it’s telepathy, that would explain the odd twinge of _panic panic panic_ that I’m getting that isn’t mine. Which means we have some form of control over the situation. _That_ means that I _can_ actually reach into the closet and grab the plushie and throw it into the hallway, just to get it out of the closet.

So I grab it and death-grip it, and as I turn back to my door, I see Chica three steps inside. She’s looking at the kid, and man or machine, I recognize the look of thrill just before a really bloody kill.

“Hey!” I scream.

They both look at me, but while the kid then looks at Chica, Chica keeps walking towards me. I’m still holding the plushie, and I have another shoe. I start backing up in a circle, hoping the kid has the smart sense to stay out of the way as I lead Chica around the room.

The clicks and whirs, the creaky hydraulic hisses, the dull thud of her heavy feet coming up and down on the carpet as she advances toward me, they all add to the semi-hypnotic atmosphere. I almost trip over the phone, which rings like kiddie phones do as I step on and then over it. With one hand, I keep the plush tucked up against me, and with the other I beckon her to come forward by holding it out in a stop motion while I circle. I’ve lost track of the kid.

Chica’s still following, like she should, but now I can hear the Freddles kick into high gear on the bed. I pass the left door and it’s open - so the kid’s well out of the way, which is good - and I stop. Chica, now between me and the door, watches me carefully, eager to eat me.

I presume. I don’t know if they actually eat people; this game isn’t exactly my forte.

Regardless. I slowly pull the plush out from under my arm, then leave it just slightly behind me. Chica hisses, and then I move. I flex my right - empty - hand like I’m pulling something, then swing my left one, throwing the plush into the hallway. While Chica turns to watch it sail over her busted-up head, I rush her. I may not be a particularly tall or buff person, but I have muscle and momentum, and I’m hoping it’ll be enough to shove her out.

It kinda is. It’s just that the kid shows up out of nowhere to give me the extra oomph I need to get Chica out. She screams mechanical murder, but we slam the door behind her. The kid holds it closed while my legs give out from underneath me, my hands instinctively going to my stomach. I can still feel a gentle _kick-kick-kick_ , and there’s no blood. My shoulder hurts like a sonuvabitch, but I did just linebacker slam a two ton robot into a hallway. It’s not dislocated, that’s all I can ask for.

The flashlight - which I have no idea how it ended up in my hands - goes up almost of its own accord and scatters the Freddles again. I take a deep breath.

“I’m so taking a vacation after this,” I mutter shakily.

The kid flashes me a small grin, “Wish I could too.” Her grin fades when she realizes the other door is wide open. She looks towards it, her grip on her door tightening. The clock strikes five.

“We’re almost there,” I reassure her. “We just gotta make it to si-”

A deep, sinister laugh cuts through the air as soon as the grandfather clock stops ringing. I freeze where I am, and I’m pretty sure my heart skips a beat, because my toes get all tingly and that’s even _more_ worrying in my...present condition.

The kid lets out an involuntary whimper at the laughter, and I can see that her whole body is trembling, though she continues to hold the door closed. The nightmare Freddy 2.0 - Golden Freddy? I know he has another name - thunders down the hall. My next reaction is pure instinct, and I’m so glad that the _sensible, heroic, actually brave_ part of me decided to finally show up.

I grab the kid’s hand and drag her to the closet, shoving her in as gently yet quickly as I can. As soon as we’re inside, I close the doors as tight as possible and take her to the ground with me. I curl up around her, placing myself between her and the door - and thus, the nightmare - and wrap my hand around her mouth. She goes rigid, but doesn’t fight against me or make a sound.

Golden Not-Freddy arrives a moment later. He pauses at the door and waits. Then he laughs, and that is _way_ more frightening up close than when he’s even just on the other side of the door. We remain silent, not taking his bait. He plods around the bed, and I hear the covers ruffle. We hear it get thrown over, landing against the floor and wall with a crashing thud that almost masks his eager half-step into where the bed used to lie. 

If he’s smart enough to tip the bed over, he’s definitely smart enough to look in the closet, which is what he does next.

He stands _directly_ outside. The glow from his red eyes shines through the slats in the closet doors, casting our unmistakable shadow across the back wall. I can feel his breaths, hot and heavy and tinged with the scent of burning grease and blood, brushing across my back and neck. My heart is beating so fast that I’m sure it’s audible even without direct contact or a stethoscope, but I continue holding the kid as tightly and comfortingly as I can, as if just staying still and quiet can stop this nightmare.

This is when yet another of my wonderfully late epiphanies hits. Both she and I woke up here, after being in places we considered safe, with no knowledge of who or what brought us here. There were so many things that shouldn’t have worked that did - forcing Bonnie back out, pushing Foxy back into the closet, the _whole_ plushie thing - and there’s really only one logical explanation.

The _telepathy_ is what pulled _us_ into _someone else’s nightmare_. 

“Wake up,” I whisper to her. “It’s just a nightmare; it’s not our nightmare. Wake up!”

The doors are literally ripped off their tinges, torn to pieces, and she screams and then vanishes from my arms. I can feel the _very tips_ of Fred-thing’s fingers digging into my back before I myself break free.

Heartbeat monitors never sounded so lovely.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare is over, but there's still some processing to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH, I'm so sorry! I totally meant to update this, like two or three days ago! School got back in today and I had some prep work for it going digital. Anyway, huge thanks to everyone who read, gave kudos, reviewed - We're glad y'all liked the story and we're so excited to continue this saga! Till next time, ciao!

(Tamryn’s POV)

I wake up with a jolt and sit straight up in my bed. Heart thudding, it takes me a moment to calm down and realize I’m back in my room. I’m safe. All thanks to Toni.

I sit up in bed and check the time. I frown. It’s 2 in the afternoon...I must’ve fallen into the nightmare when I came up here to get away from Big G for a bit. I glance at my closet, relieved to find the door shut. I don’t think I’ll be opening that door, or any door, without a decent electric bolt ready for a long while.

That nightmare, or whatever it was, was hellish. It was so real. As if I was really in that room, doing those things.

...As if Toni was actually holding me, protecting me by shielding me with her own body. Those last few moments were so terrifying, yet comforting at the same time. Why would she place herself in harm's way just to protect someone like me? The only other person I can think of who would do something like that is Kenji.

I wonder if he’d believe me if I told him about the nightmare...Probably not, though some weird shit has happened to us. Like me not being entirely human, for example.

I grab my phone from my nightstand and dial his number. It’s worth talking to him about it, whether or not he believes me.

“Hey, Tam. What’s up?”

I smile slightly, feeling relieved at hearing his voice. “You’re not going to believe what just happened.”

* * *

(Steve’s POV)

I don’t think there are any words in any language that exists at the current moment that can capture exactly how terrified I was when Toni’s heart rate spiked and then dropped off. There’s nothing in this world more frightening than having to watch your pregnant wife go through Lord knows what kind of telepathically induced nightmare, only to almost die.

Suffice to say, when she sits as straight up as the wires allow her to, crying out in pure terror, I’m right there to wrap my arms around her and hold tight, tears streaming down my face, as I try to give her some semblance of the calm it’s going to take me weeks to find for myself.

She hugs me right back, just as tightly, gasping for air and slowly calming down. “I got you, it’s okay, shh…” She’s okay. She’s awake and in my arms and alive and _okay_. They both are, as the quick glance to the second set of monitors tells me.

The rest of the team is here, but they might as well be in Alaska for all the attention I’m paying to them - or anyone else. I’m still glad for their presence. It gives Toni someone else to focus on, gives the doctors and nurses someone to communicate with, keeps a buffer between me and anyone trying to take me away from her.

It’s a good ten minutes of just holding each other and slowly coming back from the stress of Toni almost dying, but once it’s over, she gently pulls away. “The baby?”

“Just fine,” I answer, almost breathless with relief. “Both of you are gonna be okay.”

She smiles in that very Toni-esque way - a bit of sass, a bit of self-confidence, but mostly just happy fondness and _so much love_ \- and a weight lifts from my shoulders. No snappy comment comes, but that’s okay. It’s not like the world’s going to blow up if Toni lets go of an opportunity to show off that sparkling Stark personality. Her expression sobers a moment later.

“I need to see a list of SHIELD low-level wanted. Specifically the Gifted ones.”

I frown slightly. “Why?”

“I’ll explain later, but I get the feeling that this kid’s not in the best situation and I never did get her name.”


End file.
